Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Warning: Some threesome aspects and general weirdness.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Sequel to Triangulation.
Title suggested by Tobiwolf.
Trisexual, Book 4
I want a body.
I really don't think a body is all that much to ask for, seriously. I mean, everyone else has one. The farmboy has one. The reporter has one. Hell, if you're reading this, you've got one. So why do I have to be the odd man out?
I've been bugging the Boy Scout about it, and he keeps bringing up the whole bank robber thing. Like that was all my fault or something. Okay, yeah, sure, I got a little out of control in Metropolis that summer. But let's be fair, I was like a baby. Brand new, just out of the box, thrown into the world without any chance to develop ethics or self-control.
I've been around the block a few times now, though, and I totally get that if I have to live with humans, I can't rob banks, and that shoplifting isn't cool.
I can behave myself. Really.
Anyway, that's all beside the point. The point is that I deserve a body. Everyone on this planet has a body, right? No one asks them in advance if they're going to have upstanding morals, or if they might decide to make a living conning old people or administering concrete pedicures or whatever. They have a right to exist in their bodies. It's just assumed that they get to have bodies.
I figure I ought to have rights, too. I told the farmboy I wanted to talk to the ACLU, and he laughed at me.
"Go ahead, Kal, pick up the phone and call."
But see, that's the problem. I can't. I can't do anything unless Clark lets me do it. And frankly, that's getting old.
But it's okay. I can fix this.
I have a plan.
He was supposed to be getting Chloe a ring. Yes, a ring. A diamond ring. An engagement ring. The kind of ring that made his heart pound in his chest like summer thunder, so loud he was afraid people out on Main Street might hear it.
He was in love with Chloe, and he was totally ready to commit to her. Really. He was.
He was just a little...
"Shut up, Kal."
Kal didn't shut up. Kal never shut up. That one over there is nice, his voice said in Clark's head. I mean, if you want to think outside the diamonds-are-a-girl's-best-friend box.
Clark looked in the direction Kal seemed to be indicating. The front of the glass case in the jewelry store was filled with glittering diamonds, but behind the flashy gems were rings set with lesser stones. "Uh, Kal, I know you haven't ever proposed to a girl before..."
Like I'd settle down with one girl, when there's so many more to have sex with? I don't think so. I'm more the love 'em and leave 'em type.
"Oh, you are not. You love Chloe as much as I do."
Maybe. But I can't guarantee I'll love her a week from now. And a lifetime of sex with only one girl, when there are billions to choose from? Sounds like hell on earth to me.
"Anyway," Clark went on determinedly, "you don't ask a girl to marry you with a black ring."
Why the hell not?
"Well, because they expect diamonds."
You really think the reporter is that cliched?
"Maybe not," Clark conceded. "She might not mind a sapphire or an emerald. But onyx... well, black's a color for funerals, Kal. I don't think it would be a good omen to ask her to marry me with a black ring."
A good omen, Kal mocked. Aren't you the superstitious one?
"Look, Kal... humans do things certain ways. And proposing to a girl is just done with a diamond, all right?"
Fine, fine. If you want to pretend you're just an ordinary human, then go right ahead and buy her one of those chunks of glass, farmboy.
"I'm actually going to make her one," Clark said. "I was just looking to see how she might like it cut."
And that's exactly what I'm saying. You made Lana a diamond. And yeah, it was an alternate universe, but you told Chloe about it. You really think she doesn't remember that?
She's unique, farmboy. She needs something unique. Something different. Something that doesn't make her worry maybe she's just Lana Part Two. That ring over there is just the ticket.
"Maybe I shouldn't make her a diamond," Clark conceded. "But I really don't think onyx is the way to go."
I think she'd like it. Not that you ever listen to me, or give my suggestions any sort of respect, or hell, even pay the slightest bit of attention to what I think...
Clark sighed. "Okay, Kal, okay. I'll take a look at it."
He reached across and picked up the little ring. His fingertip brushed over the black stone.
Ah, that's better.
Kal looked down at himself, and then did a double take.
He was actually looking down at himself.
He looked back up and saw Clark staring at him, looking thunderstruck.
"You tricked me," he said in an accusing tone.
"Oh, there's a surprise," Kal said-- and boggled, because he was actually talking. With his own mouth. Not borrowing someone else's vocal cords, not yammering away inside Clark's head-- but talking.
"That's not onyx, it's black K."
"No shit, Sherlock." Kal looked down at himself again. He'd thought maybe he'd find himself bare-assed in the middle of Metropolis, but no, he was wearing the exact same outfit Clark was, a dark gray flannel plaid shirt, jeans, and a steel gray jacket. Thank God the farmboy had moved away from the red and blue palette, but still... flannel. Flannel was just not his thing. And the jeans from Wal-Mart had to go. And the workboots? Jesus, he needed some decent shoes...
Although he might have a problem here, because he had no money, and if he wasn't going to shoplift, then he couldn't go zipping through the Metropolis Men's Shop to, um, borrow some decent clothes.
It's okay to shoplift till I get some cash, right?
But he knew it wasn't, or at least that Clark and Chloe wouldn't think so. All of a sudden this whole having-his-own-body gig sounded kind of... well, dreary. He'd have to get a job. He'd have to hold down a job. He'd have to slog away like the farmboy, working endless hours instead of spending all his time having fun. It sounded pretty damn tedious.
But hey.. things weren't all bad. Because all of a sudden he noticed a weight in his pocket, and knew that not only had he been duplicated with Clark's clothes... he'd been duplicated with Clark's wallet. Which included, yes, a credit card.
He was armed with plastic.
Life was good.
"Look, Kal..." Clark said, and Kal noticed that he was still holding the ring, and reaching out surreptitiously to grab Kal's arm with his other hand.
Nope. So totally not gonna happen. You are not getting me back in your head this time, farmboy.
He flashed Clark his most sardonic grin. "You can't catch me, farmboy. I'm the gingerbread man."
And then he spun around... and ran like hell.
Read Chapter 2 here.